#i'm still fuckin FERAL over those

[buckyalpine]

18+ Ft Bucky's dirty little mouth because he needs to be held when he cums. You have to hold that baby so so tight. While he whines and moans and throbs till his balls are empty and it takes forever and he's so sensitive the entire time. I cannot get this absolutely unhinged, feral, filthy thought out of my head. He's so fucking touch starved, he needs to be wrapped up with your thighs hugging his waist, feeling your heels push against his ass, your arms around his shoulders and fingers grazing his scalp.

Bucky who can't help but bite onto you shoulder because he's embarrassed with how needy he sounds, muffling his voice, his feet squirming against the sheets, muscles tensed, cock swollen and thick, that pink tip shoved in as far as it would go. It doesn't matter how dominant he is; as soon as he's close he melts into a needy little mess and he can't even help it.

The first time he was with you caught him so off guard, he didn't have a single semblance of control. He fucked you so hard your eyes nearly crossed and the curly hair at the base of his cock was creamy with your slick. You clawed at his back and the sting made him growl with pleasure, his heavy balls growing tighter.

Intense pleasure starts to creep between his thighs, down his spine, warmth blooming making his skin feel hot. His pace starts to grow sloppy and those deep groans start turn into whines.

"You okay baby?" You coo sensing his tensed body and rapid breaths.

"You feel so good" He whispers, moving his arms to wrap around your body, now clinging onto you while his hips rut into your pussy, "So good around my cock, so-fuck-m'so hard"

"Shit-my cock's so wet-s'fucking swollen-there's so much cum, I can feel it" He buries his face into the crook of your neck feeling his cock swell more with each thrust, precum making a sticky, slippery mess between your legs. He holds you tighter and you can feel his ass flex with each push of his hips. He's not longer just moaning, he's whimpering and whining nipping and sucking at your neck like a needy baby.

"It's okay Bucky, you can stop if its too much-" You start but he shakes his head as soon as the words come out- there's no way you're gonna take this away from him when it feels this fucking good.

"No-no-don't wanna, feels good-fuck why does it feel so good, what are you doing to me" He's so gone, giving into the pleasure that's nearly choking his dick, now letting his hips snap against your sopping cunt, squelching and squirting all over the sheets. "Touch me y/n, please baby, need-need to feel you all over, it's-fuck its- too much, touch me"

You sooth his needy pleas, holding him tightly, letting your whole body wrap around him to ground him, your arms and legs squeezing him close. It's exactly what he needs as he hugs you tighter, no longer feeling so out of control and untethered. He can feel your whole body, your warmth and he's so safe. He's almost scared to cum, to feel something so intense, to be so vulnerable but then you kiss his temple and pet his hair and before he can think twice-

"Oh my God-fuck-I-I think I'm gonna-mphh-fuck y/n, m'cumming!" His body stills as cum bursts from his cock in thick ropes, your eyes rolling back feeling his warm spend fill you up.

"You're cumming so much baby" You coo, feeling every ridge, vein and throb of his cock, his back muscles still pulled taut when more waves of pleasure wash over him, continuing to cum.

"I can't stop, fuck-baby it won't stop" He shakes his head, still hiding against your neck, pulling his hips back to slam them inside you hoping he can empty himself but it's so hard when he seems to have an endless supply. He doesn't even know how his body can produce so much. "My balls feel too heavy, God it's so sensitive, its fuckin' squirting out of you"

He slams into you a few times for emphasis, the sheets messy and wet.

"Don't let go, wanna feel you, don' let go"

"M'not gonna let go bubba, cum for me, m'right here" You continue to hold him for minutes on end while his orgasm starts to slow down leaving him drained and exhausted. He falls right asleep, still hiding into your neck long after. He can't help it; the intense feeling makes him feel so shy and overwhelmed, he just wants to crawl into you where he's safest in his most vulnerable state.

After that night, its an unwritten rule that it's what he needs.

Even when it's a quickie. Like when you stroke him in the back of a club in a secluded booth at the club. On a free night out. He could only take so much of your dancing, grinding your ass on him. He yanked you over to a dark corner, sitting all the way in the back, where it just looks like you're seated in his lap. But he has his cock out, letting you pump your hand up and down his length and you can tell he's close by the way his chest rises and falls. He grabs your waist while your free arm wraps around his shoulder as you stroke faster.

It doesn't take long for him to bite his lips, covering your hand in his warm spend and to the rest of the world, you just look like your cozily cuddling up with your boyfriend. No one can see the debauched mess he's making, no one can hear the way he struggles to stop moaning, itching to busy his face into your chest; he'd give anything to latch onto your nipples if you'd let him.

Anyway. You can go about your day now.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻

Promises, Promises.

warnings - smut. cursing.

I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"

Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?

"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."

The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.

"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"

He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."

"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.

"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."

"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."

You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.

"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."

"I'm... what?"

"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."

You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?"

"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."

He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.

"He's wrong."

"Is that so?"

You roll your eyes.

"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."

"And why not?"

"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."

Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.

"He's your age."

"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."

He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.

"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"

Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.

"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."

"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."

"Me too."

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.

He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.

Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.

You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.

"Strip."

You blink at him, processing.

"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."

You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.

Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.

"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"

"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."

You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.

"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."

"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."

He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"

You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"

The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.

"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."

His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.

"House first."

"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.

"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."

He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.

You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.

You'll deal with the repercussions later.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.” 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

Charles jealousy smut please!

my own little devil

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, i have been dying to write this and i am a charles girl so i may have gone a little feral while writing this, so apologies in advance <3 i did end up picking prompts from my bakery list to go with this just fyi and those prompts will be bolded.

pairing; charles leclerc x female fwb reader

blurb; your devious little plan to make charles jealous and regret leaving you high and dry the previous night goes wrong.

warnings; biting kink, rough sex, a speck of breeding, spit, dirty thoughts, wall sex, google translated french, semi public sex, creampie, hair pulling, dirty talking, oral fem!receiving, possessive behavior, choking, mentions of pregnancy, dom!charles. [let me know if i missed anything!]

chai; biting or hickeys [i picked biting] lemonade; possessive vodka shot; rough sex tea; semi public doppio; wall sex chocolate mousse; "i'm sorry" croissant; "don't you dare" pancake; "no, we can't, not here" sugar pie; "stop wriggling" boston cream pie; "fuck, it's dripping down your legs"

currently playing; jealous by nick jonas "cause you're too fuckin' beautiful and everybody wants a taste, that's why i still get jealous"

it was all his fault, at least thats what you told yourself when you came up with this devious little plan in the first place, that it was charles's fault for up and leaving before you'd been able to cum around his cock last night.

he'd showed up at your place around two in the morning tipsy and in a grump from having lost the race earlier in the day begging you to make him feel better and so naturally since he was the best fuck you'd ever had, you let him have his way with you but his way last night was utter fucking torment.

he enjoyed, no he loved seeing you beg and he was hoping you'd be begging tonight down on your sweet little knees but you had decided that, that was not going to be the case, you wanted to be the one to have him on his fucking knees for a change.

you knew deep down that this dress would do the trick, the red satin hugged your figure, attaching itself to each and every curve of your body and the bra you wore pushed your boobs so far up that they could fall out of your dress with one wrong move, you looked like a sin; that was all charles was capable of thinking the moment he saw you walk into the club, his own personal little devil.

when you brushed past him on your way to the bar, your fingers grazed across his crotch and the slight gasp he let out made you smirk "you are playing a dangerous game douce fille" charles whispered to himself as he watched you go, hips swinging with every step, charles couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight, desperate for a taste.

charles was fine with letting you wander about the club showing off for him but what he didn't like was you showing off for all the other men there as well with your ass practically hanging out the bottom of your dress, you were his and he wasn't gonna let another guy lay a hand on you, so while he let you have your space, he found his eyes traveling over to you every now and then just to make sure you weren't getting into any mischief.

but little did either of you know, mischief was heading your way. when you felt a hand brush across your back so close to your ass as you leaned across the bar to take your drink from the bartender, you smirked thinking it was charles coming to claim his prize for the night but oh how you couldn't have been more wrong.

as you looked behind you, you made eye contact with a man that just radiated fuckboy energy "please don't touch what isn't yours" you mused quietly and he held his hand's up innocently like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar "relax just wanted to get to know ya, i'm brad" you couldn't help but roll your eyes, brad what a classic fuckboy name.

after a thought you decided he was harmless since you had no intention of flirting or going home with him tonight, so you decided to indulge him a little and so you sat across from one another at the bar, slowly sipping at your individual drinks.

charles had only taken his eyes off you for less than two minutes and when his eyes sought you out, he saw red.... seeing you sitting across from a man at the bar, he wasn't happy and despite you deciding to be a little tease with your choice of dress tonight he trusted you like he had never trusted any other girl before and so he let it go until he watched the guy slip his hand onto your thigh, caressing the skin like he owned you but he didn't, charles did and he was going to make sure that this prick fucking knew that.

"let me get you another drink" brad asked, hand still running along your thigh, little did he know that if he didn't remove it soon he would no longer have a hand and if the intimidating presence behind you didn't give away the fact that brad was fucked, the hand that soon wrapped around your throat should have been a dead giveaway, charles tilted your back to look into your eyes "don't you dare" he practically growled.

"you say yes and i will not be gentle with you" brad's hand slipped from your thigh "i didn't know you were taken" brad stated, trying to defend himself "i'm not" you mumbled, still gazing into charles's eyes and as your words hit his ears, he tightened his grip around your throat.

"lets go" he growled, pulling you off the bar stool and into the bathroom of the club, you'd barely made it in the door before charles pressed your back into the cold tile wall, his hand once again wrapping around your throat and holding tight as you struggled against his hold "stop wriggling" he demanded, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a little tighter causing black spots to form in front of your eyes, as he watched a tear slip from your eye he eased back a little loosening his hold but not completely letting go just yet "your mine so all those guys can fuck off and leave you alone"

"i'm not yours" you reminded him and he gave you a look that told you that you'd picked your words poorly "yeah, well i'm going to fucking make you mine douce fille" and with that he dropped to his knees, hiking your dress up and around your hips, he dragged the fabric of your panties to the side drooling at the sight of your wet little pussy, if you asked charles in a public setting what his favorite thing about you was he would say your eyes but if you asked in private, he wouldn't even give you a verbal answer and instead just drop to his knees in front of you.

"no, we can't, not here" your fingers tangled in his soft locks, pulling at it to try and distract him from his current mission of wanting to eat your pussy until your legs gave out around his head and your whole body was trembling from his touch but your words met deaf ears as he spit into his hand before rubbing his fingers along your folds, grazing your clit with every pass he made.

"your fucking crazy" you whispered as a shiver ran down your spine due to charles's touch on your clit but also at the idea of being caught in such a compromising position in public, oh how you could see the headlines now.

"FERRARI'S GOLDEN BOY CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC TRYST!"

it was only a few seconds before charles's mouth attached to your pussy, licking through your folds to suck up every last drop of the juices you were currently leaking all over his pretty little face like an alcoholic who'd gone far too long without a drink.

his fingers gripped tightly at your thighs making sure to leave little bruises that he could kiss better later. when he slipped his tongue inside, you shuddered above him, hands pulling at his hair but he never ceased, this man was starving and he was going to feast.

you couldn't help but gently rock your hips against his tongue which caused his nose to brush against your clit causing the most gorgeous friction that had you tilting your head back as a low moan slipped past your lips, fingers tugging at his hair as he smiled against your folds continuing to eat your pussy like a man starved.

you were reaching your peak and fast, you always did when charles ate you out like this, you hips began to move faster against his tongue chasing the pleasure he gave you but right as you were on the edge of pure bliss he pulled away and the sight you saw as he gazed up at you was down right erotic, his cheeks, lips, nose and even chin wet with a mix of your juices and his saliva, the perfect mix in his mind.

his pupils were wide and his mouth hung open as he panted, his warm breath hitting your thigh as he gently nibbled at the skin sending even more shock waves zapping up your spine, he scrambled up your body, hands pulling at his belt desperate to get his hard aching cock inside of your tight little cunt.

"why'd you stop" to say you were pissed was an understatement, he was not about to leave you high and dry again "i'm sorry" he rushed out, he knew that if he was to keep lapping at your dripping wet pussy like the feral animal he was any longer that he would cum in his pants right then and there.

"i was going to cum in my pants" he chuckled, connecting his lips to yours for the first time that night, you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, his kiss was sloppy and desperate causing spit to coat both of your faces.

when you pulled away you couldn't help but smile at the sight, charles cheeks were flushed and warm from the heat radiating between your bodies, his eyes wide and your lipstick was smeared across his lips and chin "so fucking pretty" you murmured, thumb running over his bottom lip as he pulled his aching cock from the confines of his jeans.

you squeaked as he picked you up, practically manhandling you as he wrapped your legs around his waist and plunged in without warning causing your head to slam against the wall behind you "fuck" you gasped "be gentle" but he was far from gentle in this moment as he thrusted in and out of you at an unnatural speed that had your head spinning.

if anyone were to walk into the bathroom in that moment and catch you, you'd have looked like a pair of rabbits in heat from the way you were going at it.

you couldn't help but bite as his shoulder, teeth digging into his skin and drool soaking his shirt in an attempt to keep quiet but the sound of his hips slamming against yours would give you away before any moans did, the sound was wet and sticky as your hips slammed together.

a sharp pain hit you as charles fingers threaded through your hair and tugged forcefully so that he could kiss and bite at the delicate skin of your neck, marking you has his own personal fucktoy, no other man would ever fucking touch you again, not on his watch.

"you wanna come inside me joli garçon, you want me to make you a daddy" charles groaned against your shoulder at the words you whispered in his ear, a million fantasies coming to mind in that moment but pushed them all down in order to focus on you and the pleasure he was making you feel.

when he felt your pussy clench around him, his hips came to a halt, body shaking with pleasure as he released ropes and ropes of his sweet hot cum deep into your tight pussy that still clenched around his cock, milking him dry.

charles's lipstick stained swollen lips pressed against yours as you swallowed eachothers moans, his hand snuck down and started to rub at your clit, pace fast and rough, he was desperate to make you cum around him and when you finally did, juices gushing around his cock, he couldn't help but cum again at the feeling.

when it was all over he pulled his head from the crook of your neck as you both panted "holy fuck" he breathed out "that was the best fuck we've ever had" he darkly chuckled.

"i never knew you were a biter" you giggled which caused your pussy to clench around his cock again, a small shot of cum shooting out.

he slowly and gently let you down and as he kneeled down to pull your dress over your butt, he couldn't help but lean forward and lick a stripe up your thigh "fuck, it's dripping down your legs" his tone of voice told he was proud of the work he'd done.

he had fucking bred you and god did he want to do it again and again until it stuck and you were round and pregnant with his baby.

"your fucking mine now you petit diable"

you couldn't help but laugh at his words "little devil huh"

oh yeah, you were his own personal little devil and a fucking hot one at that.

"yeah, my little devil" he chuckled, lips pressing against yours sloppily once more, you both couldn't help but smile against eachothers lips,

"lets get the fuck out of here" he suggested, tangling your fingers with his own "why, you going to breed me again" you joked not knowing how fucking right you actually were.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

Can you do the tupar crew and their partner taking those freaky chocolates and something with spit play please (😞🙏🏽)

Also I love your content!!

Aphrodisiacs.. me likey >:-) I can do this, yes! And thank you lovey <33 I got confused and wrote the crew taking them- I hope this suffices, sorry :'3

Curly

-god dammit he knew something was wrong with those chocolates.. You wouldn't randomly offer him some without consequences. -Dude is throbbing hard and it's all your fault. -Super grabby, clingy, touchy, kinda like a dog. He's panting and groaning because he's so hard it hurts. -Almost cries when you teasingly ask him what's wrong because you KNOW what's wrong, you evil little minx you. -"I d'no, I just.. fuck, I really need to be inside of you, angel.. like right now." -If you agree to help him out, he's throwing you over his shoulder to your quarters faster than lightning. He's on a roll. -Prepare for a loooong night. You will most likely not be able to walk tomorrow and possibly the day after that. -For real, he's going at least 8 rounds. -You've never had that many orgasms in your LIFE. -and the best part.. his rampant horniness makes him the BEST sweet talker. -Oh my GOD. -"Fuck, fuck fuck, you're so warm n' tight, you're fucking perfect, shit.. I love you, I love you s'much, my beautiful girl/boy.." -"Yeaah, you like takin' it? I know, baby, I know you do." -yeah, you might have to take a couple plan b's.

Jimmy

-oh he is pissed. -Doesn't matter if it was accidental or not, he's getting your ass. -Grabs you out of nowhere and shoves your ass against him with his hand on your throat. -"So you think yer fuckin' slick, huh? Givin' me that shit that's got me hard as a rock? Well if you wanna play like that, doll, I hope you can take what you get." -Does not give any fucks. Just bends you over wherever he's got you and goes to town. -And he's rough with it. Ass smacking, choking, hair pulling. It's your fault he's this horny anyways. He wants you to regret it. -"You wanted to get fucked like this, didn't cha, slut? Well you fucking got it. You gonna take this dick all fuckin' night." -leaving you with handprints on your ass and his seed leaking down your legs. Probably just. Leaves you in a crumpled up state. And goes to bed. You can handle yourself.

Daisuke (Ftm for this one!!)

-oh you're gonna kill this poor man. -He was already horny enough as it is!! -He's so fucking that he could cum if you so much as poke his clit. -rubbing himself on your thigh while y'all are cuddling.. -he's like a dog in heat. PLEASE fuck this man. -"Please please please please, baby.. I'm gonna diee... you're killing meeeee.." -rolled over pawing at your thighs and shit. He's so fucking down bad. -EAT HIM OUT!!!! -Or just.... do anything. Like it's painful for him to be this horny. Put him out of his misery. -goes so dumb when he cums that he's babbling literal nonsense. It's so illegible. -"Ohhhh fuckfuckfuckfuck, shit, fuuuuck-! Baby- oh my god.. fuck.." -Knocks the hell out afterwards. He's tired. :-(

Anya

-you're a monster.... -she has to deal with the aching between her thighs while she's working??? -She's very polite at hinting what she wants, but it's still pretty obvious. She's clingy as hell, and pressing her hips against you a bit too hard. -"H-honey, I hate to be a bother, but, I really need your help.." -literally just a full night of the sweetest, most passionate sex ever. She's such a romantic.. -eat this girl OUT. Let her ride your face. She really needs it. -Not super vocal regarding words, but makes some really sweet noises. -Probably only gets vocal when she's about to cum. And it's mostly just your name over and over. :-3 -Girly has unlimited stamina. Even if you can't go anymore, she'll ride your thigh or something.

Swansea

-probably the most respectful out of them all. -doesn't bother you, can take care of himself, unless you're actively offering. -He tries really really hard not to go absolutely feral since he knows that would be physically hard for him. But jeez, you're so hot, and he's harder than he's ever gotten, even in his youth. -Would marathon go down on you. You taste delicious, he'd be stupid to refuse you. -"Jesus, darlin', you're the most beautiful person i've ever met.. M'so lucky to have ya all to myself." -probably doesn't go super long. He's old. He doesn't have much stamina. He'll go as long as he possibly can for you, though. He wants to make you feel as good as he does.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Want my prompt to shake the table a bit, see a pairing that I almost never see alone:

Ghost/Gaz. Something sweet, something feral; a nice mixture. Your call but I trust your judgment.

Gaz tries to give Ghost what he asked for but it's too much.

cw: failed scene, Dom drop.

"You sick bastard, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be wanting to tell me everything," Gaz murmured close to Ghost's mask, circling the end of the riding crop around one pale nipple. It pebbled eagerly, a flurry of goosebumps running over Ghost's shoulders as he watched Gaz sneer. "I'll need a gag to shut you up."

Ghost hummed low in his throat and spread his knees out, testing the rope cuffs securing his wrists behind the chair. His cock strained against the confines of his keks and he wanted nothing more than to feed it between those pretty lips. Gaz was in control through, which set Ghost's fuckin' blood on fire.

The first strike stung. A firm lash across his chest that caught a nipple. His head fell back and he grunted, eyes fluttering as the welt prickled and throbbed in the aftermath. A second fell right next to the first, precise, measured, and Ghost's mouth fell open under the mask; the third punched a low groan, his shoulders rolling, wrists straining against the rope.

There wasn't a fourth.

Ghost looked up, examining Gaz through lidded eyes. It took him a moment to surface through the fog in his head created by sting of the riding crop, but when he did, the pinched expression on Gaz's face set his teeth on edge.

"Sir," Ghost tried. Nothing. He kicked his boot against the floor to get Gaz's attention before the pit opening in his head swallowed him whole. "Kyle, colour."

Gaz blinked. "Huh?" He looked washed out, hollow, his eyes distant. The crop dangled in one hand, his shoulders hunched.

"'m red, we're done," Ghost said.

"Shit, was it... Did I do something wrong? Si, I'm sorry, I..."

"Ya gonna untie me before I pop my bleedin' thumbs to get out?"

"Don't do that, you crazy arsehole," Gaz cast the crop aside and ran around the back, picking the knot open until it fell away. Ghost heard him hiss, and then in the next moment his fingertips were stroking the friction burns around Ghost's wrists. "Fuck, shit, look at... I'll get the... I'll get the stuff."

Ghost watched him scuttle over to the chest of drawers at the far wall and find the Savlon. It was a nice chest of drawers. Not like the IKEA shit in Ghost's gaff, but one of those oak numbers from Oak Furnitureland. Ghost had half expected Gaz to still live at home, to have to shove a t-shirt in his mouth as they fumbled in his childhood bed with Thomas the Tank Engine bedsheets.

But, like in many things, Gaz had surprised him. The flat was tidy. Nice little bolt hole in northern Kent where he was just close enough to visit his parents in London, but just far outside enough to be able to afford to eat when he was on leave. Ghost didn't miss the sergeant's salary.

Gaz approached tentatively. "Give me your wrists," he said, trying for the commanding tone he has used in the scene, that he used so effortlessly in the field, but missing the mark. His voice wavered and that pinched expression was still on his face.

Ghost patted two hands on his lap, drawing his knees together enough to create a platform, and then opened his hands. Gaz didn't need a second invite and sank gratefully onto Ghost's thighs, his own either side. "Wrists," he insisted, and Ghost lifted them up for inspection.

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"It's nothing," Gaz said, squeezing out a little bit of cream onto his forefinger and then carefully rubbing it against the burn. Ghost knew this part of it was important. Gaz cared. He cared a lot, fuck knows why. Ghost didn't pretend to understand how his mind worked; Gaz was good, you know, proper, and rather than try to dissect that and risk driving it off, Ghost has decided to throw himself heart first into earning it.

"We won't be goin' anywhere 'til you do."

"Oh yeah? What if I kick you out on your arse?"

"I'd climb back in the window."

'We're on the seventh floor."

"Yeah."

"Fuckin' nutcase," Gaz breathed through a chuckle, and then moved to Ghost's second wrist. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I couldn't... I couldn't give you what you needed."

"What did I need?"

Gaz fixed him with a quizzical look and Ghost gazed back placidly. "You needed me to beat you, right? Like I would in a fucking interrogation." There it was. Ghost could feel the sharp edge of it, like running his fingers over a soft blanket and finding a razor sticking out of it; the hurt biting into Gaz's skin.

"Ya didn't hurt me, Kyle."

"Yeah? Wos all this then?" He gestured at Ghost's wrists, his chest, pressing his lips together.

"Pleasure."

"What?"

"Told ya when we started. I like it, makes me feel good, makes the next part when I fuck ya even better."

Gaz got that sheepish look on his face and Ghost knew if he kissed him, Gaz's cheeks would be warm beneath his lips.

"I'm sorry, it... It was too much like... Look, I can do better next time, I can get my head on right, and.."

Ghost hummed, hooking a thumb beneath his bally to pull it off. Gaz's pupils blew wide. Ghost liked that, the way Gaz looked at his unmasked face; with want and affection. He took Gaz's chin and pulled him down for a kiss, teasing his lips open, keeping it gentle. He scooped a hand behind Kyle's arse and scooted him forward until the warm seat of his sweats sat over the hard bulge in the front of Ghost's belted combats. He needed to feel; to be grounded in the reality, rather than the fiction he'd created in his head, of what he'd done.

Gaz moaned softly into Ghost's mouth, a muffled 'Simon' tried to slip out, his hands splaying on Ghost's chest, trapping the cold tin of the tube against his skin. When Ghost drew away, still with one arm to keep Gaz against him, he tilted his head. "There are plenty more ways ya can make me beg."

Gaz rolled his lower lip between his teeth, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you liked the pain..."

"I like to be pushed to my limits. Pain's the easiest way."

"Yeah, looks it..." Gaz said dryly, eyeing the reddened stripes on Ghost's pale chest. He stroked down the edge of one with his fingertips, grimacing. "Alright. What are the other ways? Not gonna lie, Si. It wasn't doing much for me."

"Ya could shove a big vibrator up my arse and edge me 'til I cry."

Gaz choked on air. "What?"

He liked it though. The sound of it. His hips gave a little twitch, the first squirm of arousal.

"Ya could make me do push ups until I can't, then punish me by not letting me cum 'til I beg you."

Oh, he really liked that. Ghost's eyes dropped to Gaz's lap, head tilted, to admire the curve of his cock pushing through the grey flannel. "What else?" Gaz asked, his voice low.

"I could warm ya prick while ya watch footie. Cuff me so I can't touch myself, maybe put a remote control vibrator in my arse."

Gaz licked his lips. "Yeah, I... I like these ones better."

"Soft touch."

"Ah, fuck off, mate. I..." Gaz sighed, running a hand through Ghost's scruff of blonde hair. "I want to make you feel good, I do, but the whip just feels like I'm bringing work into our bedroom. Makes me feel sick, you know?"

"Thanks," Ghost said, "for tellin' me. I wouldn't have been as brave."

Gaz studied him for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the faint lines at the corner of his eye, then down the knife scarring over his jaw and lip. "You sure it's not the pain you want, Si? Don't lie to me."

Ghost considered his answer carefully. "I like it. But I don't need it. I need you," he said. "No point in it if ya in your head when we fuck after. I ain't selfish, Kyle. Not with shit like this."

He was selfish in other ways. Hoarding Kyle's time on leave for one. He knew, realistically, he had to go and see his mum tomorrow or face her wrath, but that didn't stop Ghost resenting the absence slightly. Their time was precious, finite. Ghost didn't like sharing.

His answer appeared to appease Gaz, who sat back to smooth some more Savlon over the welts on Ghost's chest. While he worked, Ghost's hands wandered, the one behind slid into the crease between his legs to find the heavy, warm weight of his balls, while the other caressed over his abdomen, backs of his fingers playing in the soft trail of hair down the middle. "Oi, let me finish before you get handsy," Gaz grunted.

"No." Ghost went to Gaz's chest and thumbed over a nipple, savouring the gasp like the first sip of bourbon after a long op. It didn't take him long to get Gaz hard, ignoring his protests when he stood and carried him to the bed, pushing those sweats off to the floor so he was gloriously naked against his crisp sheets.

Ghost sat up, spreading his knees open between Gaz's legs, leaving him on display to be admired. Gaz knew how good looking he was, with his sculpted arms above his head, his body chiselled from bloody marble, his Hollywood good looks, his perfect cock arched up from groomed pubic hair, and the perfect furl of his hole. He writhed, twitching his hips up in needy little thrusts as he basked in his arousal. "Hng, Si," Gaz moaned, lower lip rolling between his teeth.

"You fockin' tease," Ghost growled, undoing his belt with one hand and whipping it out as he popped his fly with the other. He got his keks halfway down his thighs before he leaned forward and sank into a kiss, hands stroking up Gaz's biceps to lace their fingers together.

They'd fuck all afternoon, like they always did in the first few days of leave; hot, heavy, frantic, sometimes tender. They would emerge later to eat and play FIFA on Gaz's PS4 with some beers, before falling asleep in a heap on the sofa. In the morning, it would be the gym, then some bedroom cardio, before mooching about a local town, back to the bedroom, rinse and repeat. Boring for some, maybe. It was the first time in Ghost's life he'd ever looked forward to his annual leave.

[thechaoticcherub]

Curious what some of your like relationship or intimate hc's regarding Joel are 🤔🧐 nothing in particular just wondering if you have things you think about

ilysm omg

yes I have a few, its funny I have less than I thought I would when I initially read this question. I think its because i'm still kind of working on my own ideas for Joel.

Lots of my headcanons are self indulgent but isn't that the fun of reader insert but here they are:

👼🏻Joel loves playing with your hair, whenever you're on cuddling, even if it's just for a moment he's picking up strands of your hair and twisting it around his thick fingers. Or he's gently rubbing your scalp.

👼🏻Joel is a generally a tits guy, he loves playing with your nipples, running his fingers over them, pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. He loves to experiment with how hard he can pinch them, watching your brow furrowing in pain and pleasure.

👼🏻I think he also just loves you in low cut shirts and dresses, he loves getting a peek at cleavage, even if it's just a little.

👼🏻But while being a tits guy he also loves giving you a spanking, whether it's actually to correct a behavior or just while he's fucking you, he loves to give you a good smack across your ass cheeks. Usually hard enough to leave a bright red handprint.

👼🏻I think relationships happen slowly with Joel but then also all at once. Like it takes a long time for him to open up and he doesn't often talk about his feelings. So much so that you're convinced that the flirtation is accidental or not real until one day you mention another man or someone looks at you wrong and he's fiercely protective of you.

👼🏻You'll mention something about "not bothering to come over anymore" when you're irritated at how you feel like it's all one sided and he'll be all "Dammit, girl, can't you see how i feel about you or do I have to fuckin' spell it out?"

👼🏻 Mans not great with feelings

👼🏻Joel is not one for using actual restraints during sex but he loves pining your hands above your head against the bed or the wall or even holding your wrists together behind your back

👼🏻I'm convinced he has like the loveliest greying pubic hair. Like it's not a fully silver thatch but its pretty densly speckled with grey and silver. Like his facial hair.

👼🏻Flithy fucking mouth. He talks you through it for sure, constantly using pet names and pussy pronouns. I think he's obsessed with how big he looks fulling you up so its often like "Aw, I don't know if she can take the whole thing, babygirl. Can you open your legs up more for me?" and "That's it, good girl, fits so fuckin' tight."

👼🏻I think there is a feral part of him that loves when you whine about how it hurts a little. "Oh it hurts, darlin? I don't fuckin' care. I know you can take it."

👼🏻Like he was a pretty hardened, fucked up smuggler...I think there is a part of that darkness that has imbedded itself in his sexuality and it comes out like that

Idk those are some of what I've got!

Thank you for asking ilysm

[lovemybluebully]

All Hail Queen Bea!

Based off of this Anon note. 😄

https://www.tumblr.com/lovemybluebully/765290767074951168/i-feel-that-even-if-logan-doesnt-admit-through?source=share

Super short little fluff-filled tickle fic that I just threw together really quick. lol Enjoy!

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine

Word Count: 609

"Staahahahaap! Wade pleheeheeheeease!" Logan begged through his wheezing laughter as Wade delivered the umpteenth raspberry to his quaking belly.

"So we're in agreeance then? Dorothy is definitively the best Golden Girl?" Wade paused with his face still hovering close above his roommate's most ticklish spot as Logan looked over at him with sparkling but pleading eyes and panted out his reply.

"B-But I haven't....even watched.....a whole episode yEHEHeHeheHEHET!!" Wolverine screeched, going totally wild once Wade began nibbling on his lower belly while making extra effort to target his unbearably sensitive V-line, "OKAAHAHAAAAY!! OKAAHAHAHAHAHAAYAAHAHAHAAHAA!!"

Wade kept it up for another minute while simultaneously reaching in with both hands to bury fingers into his squirming sides and make sure his point got across. Once Logan was reduced to nothing but a satisfying squealing wreck, he finally ceased the playful torture and sat up.

"Don't you ever disrespect Bea Arthur in my prescence again, you insolent cretin. We don't take kindly to that around here," he smirked and wiggled a few fingers under Logan's chin, getting some more giggles out of him before his hand was weakly smacked away.

"Heeheheehe.....Fuckin' geez.....All I said....was that Betty White.....seems like a pretty cool lady," Logan gulped for air while not making any attempt to get up from where Wade had pinned him on the couch.

They didn't have "The Golden Girls" tv show in Logan's universe and Wade was more than happy to have an excuse to run a marathon of all seven seasons.

"And of course she is! But as you have just learned, you just don't speak out against the Queen Bea like that," Wade smiled, secretly knowing that wasn't exactly a punishment for Logan, as he settled back into the couch and un-paused the television to resume the first episode.

In a tired, giggle-induced daze Logan somewhat sat up to lean against Wade and allowed his now relaxed eyes to shut. The merc just chuckled as he began softly running fingers through Logan's wild hair, noticing how much fuller it had grown-in ever since the feral mutant came to live in his universe.

"All tuckered out, huh? Don't worry, after you wake up I'll fill you in on everything that happens."

There were some quiet giggles bubbling out as Logan could still feel the phantom tickles all over his upper body with them even causing him to squirm slightly to Wade's delight.

"Still feeling tickly? That's how you know I'm a pro. Don't mess with me, these hands are deadly weapons. Well....technically you don't have to mess with me to get it. You spent a lot of years without smiling, Peanut, and I promise those days are long over. And if I have to tickle you to death every day just to see it then so be it."

Wade then shivered with excitement as he began to feel vibrations emanating from the Wolverine, though he held back from commenting on it. Only when Logan was truly at-ease and happy did this purring from deep within him manage to surface itself.

"Thank you...," Logan muttered softly and Wade almost melted on the spot from the indescribable joy he felt at hearing him say that. He looked down, wanting to question him about it, but Logan had already fallen asleep as he lightly snored against him.

Wade's smile widened, knowing that his friend had truly meant it. That admission along with how little Logan had fought it during and how relaxed he had become afterwards confirmed what Wade already knew; Logan liked being tickled.

"Any time, big guy," he replied and continued to gently massage his scalp, pushing Logan further into his blissful slumber.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Take It

Kensei Muguruma x AFAB! Reader

***This is an 18+ work of fiction, if you are not of age, be gone ***

Warnings: Smutty smut, overstimulation(I think?), squirting, breath play(maybe?), cumflation(kinda?), rough fuckin', then soft Kensei (sorta)

Word Count: 1k

Author's Note: Uh, yeah this popped into my head idk man I'm horny for this guy. You can't convince me he ain't got a massive dick. ANYWAY

Enjoy~

“Still think you can take it, sweetheart?” 

That is what you’d said, when you came to him all those months ago seeking his training. Him being your Captain, Kensei Muguruma, who’s a damn powerhouse and has knowledge you can use to your advantage. You said you could take it, his harsh regimen, and you did. Training with him has proven lucrative, your stamina and strength and sheer power have increased exponentially under his strict and intense guidance. Soon enough you were going head-to-head with him, even though you still couldn’t beat him if you tried. There’s a reason he’s a captain, after all.

All of that training, all the time spent trading blows and bruising each other’s skin. You’d never predict you’d end up in his damn bed.

“Y-yes I ca-” a sharp gasp is ripped from your lungs and your eyes roll back in your head as his weight is thrown into his thrusts, shoving your face further into the drool-soaked pillows. Fuck him for that, he did it on purpose to cut you off. But fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. His thick, rough fingers dig so hard into your hips you can feel them bruising, but you can’t find it in you to care. He’s a rough man, it’s only fitting he fucks rough.

“Oh yeah? Wanna take it back yet?” He slows his pace, but he’s hitting so deep it doesn’t matter. Damn you can feel him in your throat. You’re still gasping, still trembling beneath his hands and still crying from the pleasure that can’t seem to fade no matter how long he pins you to the bed. It’s been hours. One arm reaches around and loops around your neck, the muscles in his arm cradling your chin as he yanks you back against his chest. The angle shift has you crying out, your legs shaking as you cum hard. He’s just so big, his body and his dick. Every movement sends shockwaves through your muscles and it’s getting real hard to think about anything beyond the pleasure and heat. Sharp teeth nip at your ear, just barely bringing your mind back. What was it he said again?

“Come on, pretty little thing. You can take a hit but can’t take dick? I guess we gotta shift our training huh?” Fuck him. First time in his bed and he’s mocking you for not being ready for it. 

“F-fuck you, Kens-” The corners of your vision turn black when he flexes the arm around your throat and shoves his hips up into you. He tuts, like he’s scolding a damned child.

“No, I’m the one fucking you, silly girl.” The bastard barely even sounds out of breath. Damn it, he won’t even let you finish one sentence or thought. You claw at his arm when he picks up his pace, trembling in his hold for the nth time tonight. He’s slamming into you with every thrust and sending spots dancing in your eyes, you aren’t sure how much more of this you can actually take. Then he reaches over with his other hand to rub tight, rough little circles over your clit and you swear you lose consciousness for a second, white blanking your vision. You can feel yourself squirt over his thighs and your entire body tenses before going completely limp in his hold. His groan is feral, shakes your bones, and he’s using your limp body to find his own end. Briefly, you wonder if this is what it feels like to die, but then you can feel him still and suddenly you feel so full. You’re manhandled into a more comfortable position, lying on your side and tucked safely into Kensei’s chest as you both labor for breath.

It feels like forever before he actually speaks again, and the softness in his voice startles you.

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Shakily, you take a breath, and a shattered sob is forced from your lungs when his large palm presses into the pouch of your stomach where his cock is still buried to the hilt. You grip that arm, albeit weakly, trembling with the effort. He’s going to kill you like this, the pleasure is going to make you pass right out and you’ll die.

“Shh sweet thing. Relax baby, I’ll be gentle.” It’s slow and agonizing, and feels too damn good, as he pulls free of your spent pussy. Your legs shake, he’s reminding you to breathe, the sensitivity between your thighs is at an all time high. You can’t be bothered about the gush of cum that leaks from you when he’s finally free, but when it’s all over all you want to do is sleep. Exhaustion tugs at your mind, and when his lips carve a gentle path down your shoulder and his fingers dig gently into your bruised hips to relieve your tense muscles, you succumb to the depths of slumber.

When you come to, you can’t help but notice that you’re clean. No sticky mess between your legs, no sweat clinging to your skin, no saliva or tears on your neck and face. Even your hair feels clean and washed. You’re still wrapped up in thick, strong arms, the heat of your Captain’s skin seeping into your body. Shivers crawl down your spine when his voice, riddled with sleep and much deeper than usual, ghosts over your shoulder.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How are you feeling?” It’s so tender it almost shocks you. He can be caring when he wants to be, but usually he holds all the kindness of a drill sergeant even when he wants to be comforting. But now? He sounds so soft, so sweet it’s almost alarming. Big fingers trace over your hip and up over your chest to cup your chin, gently shifting your gaze to where he leans over you.

“Focus baby. I asked you a question.” His gaze is expectant, as it always is. Yeah, it’s definitely Kensei.

“I’m alright.” Your voice is croaky, rough with overuse. 

“Good.” He’s back down again, pulling you tight into his chest and breathing into your hair. 

“Did you bathe me?” He grunts out a yes, and that’s all the answer you get before he’s snoring against your head.

[from-the-clouds]

giving kendall roy a blowjob pls

i have a fic about this here buuuttt i've been so down bad for ken lately and am embarrassed to say i literally dropped all my WIPs to also write this. inspired by this gif from @technicolourtelevision. also please follow my succ sideblog if u are a kendall girlie like myself @kendollroyco!

warnings: smut under the cut (18+ only, oral sex m receiving, degradation, dom!kendall - sorry but i want him to be mean to me) not proofread, and potentially just bad -- i wrote this in like a 30 minute fugue state.

first off, where you do this is kind of important because there are sooooo many good opportunities. maybe you work for him and he's making you suck him off under your desk, his hand down the front of your blouse. you have to go to the bathroom after to clean yourself up because your mascara is smudged and he's ruined your hair. or maybe you're on your knees for him in the back of a car, and he's refusing to roll up the partition. the straps of the gown you've got on are falling off your shoulders, and you're worried about getting caught but he's shoving your head down and he's whispering shit like 'but you're taking it anyways, aren't you?' and you can't help but moan as he shifts his hips so you take him even deeper.

but REALLY what i think about is like, in the most recent episode when he talks about not sleeping well. you're his girlfriend who lives with him, but you hardly see him. and one night when he comes home late you can just tell he's tense, like, ready to snap at anyone who gets in his way. you're curled up wearing one of his old harvard sweatshirts maybe watching tv or looking at your phone and he looks so fucking good in one of those suits that fits him like a glove.

when you ask him how he's doing, he's short and snippy. 'fine.'

'you stressed or something?' you ask, rather than start an argument.

'fuckin', uh, i don't know, what does it look like?'

you're sort of taken aback by how rude his response it, standing over you with his hands on his hips. 'don't tell me you waited up this late for me....' he's trying to chastise you, but you can see right through him.

'you're working too much' you sit up.

'uh-huh, right. i don't want to hear your shit right now, i'm fuckin' exhausted-' and he's trying to be mean, to push you away.

'i bet. all you do is toss and turn at night,' you agree.

you reach out, hook your fingers around the cool silver of his belt buckle and yank. he steps forward, even if his eyebrows are still pinched together, his lips curled down into a frown.

'i could give you something that might help.'

by the time you've pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his face has neutralized, even though his hands are still on his hips. you drop to your knees, ignoring the chill of the italian marble. he smiles a little, then, puts a hand on top of your head.

you don't go slow, you don't want to, and he doesn't let you. he pulls your hair and jerks his hips into your mouth. you take him all, using your hands to spread the slick from gagging on him several times around. of course, he talks you through it, tells you exactly what to do and how he wants it in that deep, raspy voice, which only gets deeper when he's turned on.

'god, you're such a fucking slut.'

and you don't care about looking pretty while you blow him. no, you might normally try to be cute about it, but when he's mean it only makes you more feral. you choke and gasp until tears run from the corner of your eyes and you're drooling, straddling his foot and grinding yourself against his black prada oxford's.

you whine and mewl around him, mouth so full the noises are unintelligible. 'you're so pathetic,' he groans, looking down at you, and you can tell he's getting close because his voice doesn't have the same conviction as before. 'that's it, atta girl, just take it.'

the more you allow yourself to get into it, the more turned on you get. the more turned on you are, the more desperate and filthy you want to feel. it just keeps building, compounding. until you take him just a little too far and retch. 'easy, easy.' kendall pulls back, his voice stern.

glancing up, he almost looks concerned. he scolds you. 'control yourself.'

you're pissed that it nearly sobers you up. 'shhh,' you hiss, swat his hand away from where it's landed on your cheek.

'okay, fine, if you fuckin' want it that bad.' his fingers fist the back of your head again.

immediately, you wrap your lips back around his cock. you use both hands to jerk him while you suck on his tip, bobbing your head and humming around him.

he gets quiet, and that's your cue. he's not great at using his words when he's about to come, but it's a good indication to keep up the rhythm you've built and not stop under any circumstances.

'uh-huh, that's-fuck!' ken makes sure he's buried in the back of your throat when he comes, hard, his hips stilling their movements, but he keeps your head in place with both his hands until he's sure you've swallowed everything he has to give you.

at some point, you pull away and slump against the back of the couch. your eyes are watering, your face feels impossibly hot, and your jaw aches. it's hard to see straight, so you cover your eyes with your hand.

'jesus,' kendall mutters your name.

you peek at him between your fingers to see him squat down. now he's on the same level as you. he moves your hand away from your face, a look of genuine curiosity etched in his features. you'd never blown him like that before. 'where'd that come from, sweetheart?'

'it's dumb,' you shake your head, a little embarrassed. 'i listened to this podcast...'

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, hand under your chin so you are forced to look at him. 'uh-huh?' he asks. 'at home all day fuckin' uh....taking notes on how to give me good head?'

'shut up,' you go to smack his head away, feeling a new warmth rise to your cheeks, but he grabs your wrist and hauls you against his chest, nose poking into your hair, lips on your cheek.

'is there, uh, anything else they had to say on there i might be interested in learning about?'

'potentially,' you answer. 'if you have all night...'

he laughs, a comforting rumble right into your ear. 'i do.'

[cicidarkarts]

Can you list your favorite characters in order? (Aside from Idrees) and explain why you that way about them? Like an explanation on how you feel about them? It’s nice to know there’s other people in the fandom of the breadwinner still talking about it. 💜💙 You fanart is always slaying!

D… Don't talk about Idrees?? fangirl brain short-circuits

Okay but yeah, I do have thoughts on the other characters as well, just not as crazy in-depth headcanons (mostly). I can't really say that any of these characters are in order because I haven't thought to number them.

WITH ONE EXCEPTION.

Shauzia??? ;0; Gurl, can we just talk about how much I love this chaos gremlin? She's the type of mf who is like "have I ever steered you wrong?" knowing 100% she fuckin has. She's somehow even more of a chaotic demon in the book. omg Parvana do you want to be a grave digger?? omg Parvana let's sell our wares in this totally not bizarre arena full of very angry men and then be traumatized when we see another man's hands get cut off.

I love this girl. On one of those Alignment Charts, she would be Chaotic Neutral. Also she's adorable?? Like how, that's illegal.

I do have a headcanon about the girls that involves Shauzia dragging Parvana into the underbelly of Afghanistan where all the debauchery secretly takes place and stumbling upon the metalhead anarchist society. Unfortunately, my headcanons end there because brain is obsessed with Idrees so that's what I'm forced to follow.

(me right before I sneeze)

But yes, Shauzia is my second favorite character. I love that she's so assertive where she can be, despite her circumstances. She really had Parvana's back no matter what, and it pained me that the movie just kinda left her hanging at the end. We truly did NOT have enough time to wrap everything up.

More below the cut!

Parvana had some of the greatest parts in the entire movie.

Parvana is a strong character who wants to do what's right. Witnessing the horrors around her could've broken her, but she didn't let it. She didn't let it taint her views of right and wrong, she didn't let it break down her spirit. She fought every day to get what she needed and wanted. Parvana went from shut down and trying to avoid confrontation to confident and independent over the course of this movie. She lost sight of herself a few times but always came back around due to her strong moral compass.

Parvana is a fascinating character, proactive and powerful, and much better in the movie than in the book imo. She was the Mom Friend. She just wanted to comfort people and make them feel better, kiss their wounds where she could, and she would give you the shirt off her back if it didn't reveal that she's actually a girl. She's brave and an amazing MC to follow.

Underrated Queen, hello??? Can we talk about how Fattema was a badass for most of this movie? Her husband was taken away, she had no idea if she would ever see him again, she risked her life going out to try and appeal his case, and then after she got the absolute shit beaten out of her, she still managed to escort Parvana back to the "safety" of their house.

The realism of her depression after this was so sad to witness. How she wanted so badly to be there for her children whom she loves so much but was literally and figuratively beaten down by the system at every turn. Her worry over her daughters and son, how she fought so many times. The end of her arc? Where she stood up for herself and her family, asserted her dominance by proving that she was "insane" to this shitty man, and WON?? Oh my god, I was going feral. What an absolute badass.

(yeah that's right, fafo; this guy is fucking terrified of her I'm dead)

Okay I'm ngl Parvana's sister Soraya was like not even on my radar most of the time, I'm sorry ;-; I feel bad because she was a sweet older sister who supported Parvana. They had a lovely sibling relationship that was full of teasing and affection. But they didn't take the time to give her more than that. So she's more of a footnote in the characters to me, which sucks. :( I didn't even remember her name, I had to look it up, I'm so sorry 😭

If you go into the dictionary and look up the word sweetie pie, you'll find a picture of this man. Don't worry, I'll wait.

Nurullah lived his life considering women as his equals. People who deserved love and respect and education just as much as any man. He's a soft-spoken sweetheart who just wanted to teach his daughters how to think for themselves so they could grow up as strong women (as much as they could be in this environment). He risked his life lying to a member of the Taliban and unfortunately paid the price dearly. His state at the end of the movie was heartbreaking to witness and I can't even imagine the abuse he endured while in Pul-e-Charkhi.

Yet this man still smiles when he is reunited with his family. This man still has his spirit despite the abuse and neglect and the wars he's been through. We don't give him the credit he deserves for being a sweet, kindhearted person in spite of everything this world threw at him. Fattema is a lucky woman to have gotten with this cinnamon bun of a man.

(Zaki) ghiagahiohhrklh;nklj HE'S ADORABLE I'M LITERALLY SHAKING AND CRYING RN 😭😭😭😭 But also he's like 2 years old so there's not much to say about him but holy fuck he's soooo cute I'm gonna cry

Who is this man he's ADORABLE???

how the fuck 😭😭 HOW DID HE GET HERE?? He teleported dude, I'm scared

If you go into the dictionary and look up the word teddy-

Razaq is one of the more interesting characters in this movie. He's very complex and-- what if I just immediately moved onto the next character that would be so

LOOK AT THIS SWEETHEART CINNAMON BUN CUTIE PATOOTIE THERE ARE NO THOUGHTS BEHIND THESE EYES HE HAS TO RUB TWO BRAIN CELLS TOGETHER TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET HOME BECAUSE HIS THOUGHTS ARE ONLY CANDY WHO ARE YOU UNNAMED CANDY MAN I NEED TO KNOW

Okay I'll be serious, I'm sorry. I actually really enjoy Razaq. He's a jaded man who doesn't seem like he really wants to be serving the Taliban. I wish we could've gotten more into why he's doing it, because he seems like the antithesis of everything the Taliban stands for. I'd like to believe he's only here to stop the young people (like Idrees) from doing extremely stupid things and getting themselves or other people hurt. But we're never given an explanation.

That scene in which Parvana reads him that letter about his wife's death, and he leaves without another word, was a heart-wrenching scene. He was trying so hard not to cry. LOOK AT HIM ;-; Nooooo

Razaq shows us that not every man in Afghanistan wants to beat and oppress women, even though these types of man aren't exactly in the majority, or are perhaps just silent for fear of retaliation (which we see a lot as well). It's such a mind-fuck that Parvana reflects upon it in confusion. "Up until then, she had seen Talibs only as men who beat women and arrested her father. Could they have feelings of sorrow, like other human beings?"

Razaq puts himself in grave danger for Parvana, a young girl he barely knows and owes nothing. This ends up with him getting into a physical altercation with one of the guards at Pul-e-Charkhi, in which Razaq gets shot but survives (as far as we know). He pulled Nurullah out of there to fulfill his promise to Parvana. He lost everything but still gave it his all for this little girl just to see some hope in her eyes.

My name is Suleiman. My mother is a writer. My father is a teacher. And my sisters always fight each other. One day I found a toy on the street. I picked it up. It exploded. I don't remember what happened after that… Because it was the end.

[mutt3y3]

Okay, Somehow posting a thingy with all my fuckin complaints n shtuff has helped to get my fuckin brain rolling again. Or maybe it's due to the fact that I've officially decided to open up questions to everyone and not just Rotten.

This also sorta spells the end of Rotten's ask blog... I'm sorry, truly am. Maybe one day I can bring back an Ask Blog but for right now, nah.

Besides that...

MEET SPLATTER name pending... YALL!!

Bro I am so happy with his design. I swear, Both my Ink designs are just absolute chaos. Though I guess that's due to the fact I view Ink as being quite chaotic.

It just gets x10-ed in my head.

Anyway, so uh. How'd he get the hole in his skull? That was from his Error. They got into a little itty bitty baby fight and next thing you know he's gotten a hole in his skull.

But don't worry, Dusk/Apathy(His Dream) patched him all up and gave him some cool new chompers!!!!

Fun little personality stuff and fun facts just because why not:

- Very energetic, very easy to excite.

Bro is a ball of energy. I like to think that he just can not physically sit still. He has to be doing something. Messing with his clothes, rocking, tapping a foot, drumming his fingers on the table, he's gotta be doing something. Also it's very easy to get him riled up, especially if you bring up stuff he's interested in. Say one key word and bro is going on a full blown villain type monologue.

- Main choice of Fashion: Yami Kawaii (inspired)

I just thought it fit him. He's got like, a pill pin on the back of his scarf that helps it to keep its bow shape. Honestly he wears a lot of bandages and band aids over his bones because of the various scarring he got from his Error. Dude was not in a good situation, at all, but don't worry. He got his revenge >:3

- Doesn't drink viles.

Okay, so when Splatter first came into being I had this idea of him going feral and having to eat others to quell his hunger, thus allowing him to turn back to normal. But that didn't seem right, especially with how he is now. I mean, he still goes feral-ish but it's more controlled. But then why is this like- where are his viles? He can't drink them anymore. After the hole incident he struggles heavily to drink liquids. So most of the paint just splatters on out. But, surprise surprise that's not the only way he can get colors!! Turns out monster souls hold a shit ton of colors in them. They're like rainbow jelly-filled donuts (God that feels so morbid to say). So he eats souls to get his colors, though the souls sorta... Like... Explode jusssttt... a bit when bitten into so you can tell very easily if he just got back from a hunt. His entire front half is just covered in bright rainbow splatter.

- Childish.

He has a childish spunk to him. At least, in all my daydreams he gives off childish vibes. Just a simple little thing. He can get serious when he wants to be, but most of the time he's an annoying lil shit.

I'm gonna just put it here but both DB and Splatter have little to no respect for the Omega Timeline/Those in power. Dusk and His Cross have a bit more respect but it's more so in the sense of "We're only being nice and respectful of you because you have valuable information"

The Stars have, I guess, gone rouge. Which I like to think the Omega Timeline's council absolutely hates.

Any who, there's Splatter.

Og Ink belongs to @comyet

[butmakeitgayblog]

Can I just say I love how like, into revisiting and analysing this dumb show’s scenes you still are — with the rise in popularity of streaming (I’m sure this has something to do with it, anyway) it’s become more and more commonplace for people to consume a piece of media, enjoy it, get bored of it after a while and never touch it again after moving on to the next new thing. It’s so wholesome and refreshing to see people still be so passionate and always find something new to talk about a show that, for all many of us care, ended 8 years ago. I do move in and out of being obsessed and disinterested with the media I’ve enjoyed, but in a world where I’m constantly seeing people say “oh you’re a fan of [X]? But that’s old :/“ (mostly about something that finished like last year lol) your blog is a breath of fresh air :)

Well thank you 🥹

The thing is, I get it. I get why and how people move on to different fandoms so quickly, and I don't really think poorly of that or anything. It's been almost a decade and it's easy to fall out of love with something after so long. Hell, when you think about it, this fandom has outlived the lifespan of a lot of entire relationships people have had 🥴. People find new things to get excited over and the *gasp* feeling of finding this new /thing/ is always fun. So I do get it.

But for me, it's just not that way. It's not that simple. Not because I think I'm somehow special (maybe a lil deranged 😬), but rather that's just how I operate. Before Clexa the only other ship I ever really cared about was Willara from Buffy which I watched when I was a goddamn teenager lol (RIP to my fellow gays always falling for girls who get shot ✊😔). I just don't get attached much to characters and ships. Usually ai like them in passing, enjoy watching them, and then that's... it. Tibette from the L Word. Wayhaught. Brittana. I like them and I follow them, but there's no real desire to delve deeper beneath the surface.

And then something like Clexa comes around and just absolutely fucks me up. It hits me and connects with me in a way that I just can't shake. Watching the show isn't enough. Thinking about it isn't enough. I have to discuss it and dissect it and fill in the gaps that we didn't see, and read and (now) create more stories for them just to understand everything about them to a deeper degree.

So few characters really elicit that kind of connection, but Clexa do. Even for a lot of the people who have moved on, at one time they felt that connection. Clexa was a fuckin madhouse for years and I think the fact that even still to this day people keep discovering and rediscovering them and falling in love with them all over again speaks volumes about just how wonderful that relationship and those characters actually were.

Especially Lexa.

Now, I love Clarke. I make it known that thiiiisss is a Clarke Griffin apologist's blog. That feral little kitten has never done anything wrong in her life. Ever. Including all of the terrible things she's done, as well as the many, many things that were flat out wrong. She is still innocent. She is only a baby. A murderous, tormented, compassionate, complex babygirl. So never get it twisted that I'm saying Clarke is somehow lesser than, but when push comes to shove when we're talking about baseline complexity, there is no character like Lexa. There's just not.

This woman was definition of doomed by the narrative. A child stolen away to be used as a glorified sacrificial lamb for her people. A toddler wielding a sword made of wood taller than her own tiny body, trained to accept her own life as expendable for the greatest good of her people before even learning her ABCs. She took the throne at 12 bby slaughtering her only companions and made her death mask out of kohl and fallen tears. Every person she ever loved as a mother, father, brother, either died for her, or by her own hand. The only two people she ever dared to be weak for were torn from her in the name of politics and the weight of her own bloodied crown. Under all the regalia she was just Lexa. Heda, always surrounded by her people and yet eternally just a lonely soul. Born here on Earth, raised to eventually die for others, left to rule over the people on the ground as best she knew how.

And yet through the pain, she was strong. So fucking strong it emboldened the warriors around her. She was brave, and lethal, and unyielding in her pursuit of peace. Meeting every push against her forward march to change head on, never flinching in her own brutality along the way. She knew that she was born for this; believed the black of her blood to be every bit as much of a blessing as it was a curse. Even when people doubted her and did their best to end her reign, Lexa always came out swinging.

She loved hard and kicked ass even harder, is what I'm saying. And the fact that they took a character like that and ended her so fucking carelessly? I just... I'm gonna be pissed off about that for a very long time. And until I'm no longer pissed off about that, I'll be here running mouth about it 🥴 probably still trying to make it better by writing her and the love of her life in as many stories as I can, so they can finally get the happy ending that was robbed of them in canon 🫡

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

[thelegionsden]

G-Virus Frenzy

Going into this trial, Julie wasn't sure if the poor sap with a giant, pulsating eye growing out of his shoulder would be able to keep up with her. That question was answered the second he sprinted off in search of survivors. He banked right around the facsimile of her old stomping ground while she went left, scouring the field for any victims.

Eye Guy's search bore fruit first as a pack of survivors scattered to avoid him, right into the path of Julie's knife. "Gotcha." She said as she entered Feral Frenzy, slicing one survivor on the back. She cleaned her blade and went on to the next survivor, slicing them as well. She felt her bloodlust rise as the Frenzy went on... until a pallet cut her off from her precious high. Alright. If they were going to be difficult, Julie was going to be merciless.

Julie and Eye Guy split up, each patrolling one side of the trial grounds to keep tabs on the generators. The survivors were wily though, repairing generators faster than either killer could react to. With each gear slicked rumble she heard, it made Julie's blood boil. They were working too fast for her liking, and if this kept up, they'd escape... and who knows how long the Entity would make the Legion wait again.

"Ok... now I'm gettin' pissed!" Julie tapped into her killer instinct and clenched her knife. Focus that anger, that rage, turn it into something more driven. She thought of the encouraging words her darling Frankie gave to her before the trial started. They'd promised each other that they'd each get a total party kill each before the Entity decided to end 2v8, and Julie was going to make good on that promise.

Whether with help from Eye Guy or just the survivors getting overconfident, Julie's knife was starting to find blood. Their quick work had a downside that helped them out too: They'd quickly finished all the generators one side of the resort, meaning the rest where in a tight cluster where it was relatively easy to corner them. Julie had seen enough of their tactics during regular trials to know that, if they had access to their normal skills, she'd have been fucked from the start. And that just made her angrier.

"You can't stop me now! Where's your precious skills when ya need em?!" Julie unleashed her bloodlust upon the survivors with each slice of her blade, and Eye Guy mopped up the stragglers who were tried to save the gens Julie had dealt with. Even if she couldn't indulge in the high of Feral Frenzy, Julie was more than happy to prolong the chase. It made it more exciting anyway.

Enough time passed, and soon they were down to just three, huddled like rats in a corner trying to heal their wounds. Cute, but fuckin' worthless. Eye Guy closed in, swiping at them with that jagged pipe he carried. Julie quickly chased off after the survivor he missed, bringing them down quickly and mercilessly.

Only one remained, but the killer duo had to act fast, as the hatches were opened and the last survivor had disappeared. Julie closed a hatch had opened next to her, then one in the main lodge while Eye Guy searched. Her heart raced, she was so close, she just needed to hurry. She felt her heart leap when the gate alarm blared in her ears, meaning the final hatch was closed.

And she just so happened to spot the final survivor as they tried to make a break for the gate. Julie sprinted after her and closed the distance, slicing her in the side and then grabbing them by the hair. She stabbed them in the back and wrenched them down. She kneeled over them and delivered three brutal stabs to their chest and a final one to their stomach.

"Heh... you still got some fight in ya?" She spit as the survivor struggled for breath. Julie turned to see Eye Guy standing there. His human face strained in agony, his eyes glazed over as if he were under the eye's control. Slowly, he raised his shaking free hand up and revealed three of those injectors used by that nasty Blight fucker.

It was then Julie got an idea. A twisted, filthy idea. She took the vials and plunged each one violently into the wounds she had made. The putrid serum flowed through her victims body as she emptied the payload, their veins glowing a sickly orange. Slowly, their body began to expand, their skin stretching to the point of breaking. The blight serum leaked from every orifice as they continued their grotesque swelling, the rancid smell of the body's futile attempt to relieve the pressure making Julie wince. The skin became so thin it began to break along the stomach, revealing the pulsating organs filled with the serum. Finally, the survivor didn't so much as burst but "deflated" as their skin broke, their liquified remains spilling across the snowy ground.

"...Awesome..." Was all Julie said as she cleaned her knife. Three Legion members had finished the task, now only one was left...

[kitwilsonsass]

how did you discover Pretty Deadly and when did you realize they were going to be a Big Deal?

sadly i have been watching wrestling for the majority of my life at this point and have given up on being someone with Good Tastes who ever doesn't, and tag teams have been my favorite part of wrestling since i was little because that was like ~the glory days~ of it.

i didn't really notice them until they were already signed to the company on the UK show that has since ceased. i'm sure i'd seen them in passing before then, but i saw them on the website listed as champions one night in their stupid black and white lace shirts and was like 'wow those guys are my exact aesthetic' and then watched what, unfortunately, was just an AWFUL promo video and totally made me go 'eh, maybe not feeling it.' i kept up with their stuff lowkey after they came to the states in bits and pieces just through social feeds and what not. that 'day in the life' video i have pinned still was a big 'damn, nevermind, these guys DO fuck.'

i didn't go 'god, they deserve everything' until they did a program with the new day (approximately billion time tag champs i love and lowkey work for one of online sometimes) and was tuning in every week for it. shortly after that they were on the main roster and then elton got injured and i was convinced they'd never be seen again and i shouldn't get too attached. [CLEARLY THIS PLAN WORKED SO WELL FOR ME].

THEN YOU SEE, MY FAV DIED. irl. died. just fuckin died. and that like.... you know..... still sucks a lot tbh.

so i rather abruptly went to the smackdown the week after he died and kit vs butch was the dark match before the show, and my explanation for why i'm a crazy person now is that hearing 'yes boy!' over the arena speakers activated some sleeper agent code from this dream i'd had a couple months prior where they were like CIA agents being my bodyguards for some reason even though i rarely dream of people. that's my excuse. i can't be held liable for being insane about them.

and that's how i went from ignorant fake fan to feral crying on tumblr every day in a thousand words too many.

smile.